The Angel of the Opera
by Not that way never go that way
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is a deformed man with incredible genius living in the cellar of an Opera house. John Watson is a young dancer who secretly longs to sing. One day, they meet and it sets a great tragedy in motion, can they overcome society and themselves?
1. Phantom of the Opera

Sherlock was watching from his usual Box 5 and plugging his ears. He had built this Opera House for music, not for some loudmouth with horrible vibrato called Piangi to steal the stage on every show. Today, he came in excitement though, because he had rigged one of the backdrops to land on him during dress rehearsal. He wanted to know what the other people in the company sounded like, and with Piangi's deafening voice, he could hear nay one of them. He watched in amusement as it fell on him, smiling the smallest bit as the man stormed out of the theater in anger.

He saw Monsieur Moriarty talking with the idiot managers of the Opera, noticing a blond man, one of the elephant tamer dancers, stepping up to sing.

*This ought to be interesting* He thought as the man began to sing. It was amazing. He had never heard a voice so pure. It was not perfect, but he was like a blank slate with not bad marks on him.

He scanned him up and down.

It was John Watson. He was a dancer that he'd seen before, never paid him much mind. He was the son of a Swedish Cellist, Vincent Watson.

He made his decision to see him again, finding him after his great performance the next evening. He was alone, praying for his dead father. Sherlock looked up through the vent and sang, using his ventriloquism to make it sound to John as though the voice was all around him. "Bravo, bravo, bravissimo!" He sang happily before he saw John's friend, Molly Hooper walk into the room to congratulate her friend.

Okay, so his plan had failed. So he would talk to him some other time.

He decided to talk to the managers -using Monsieur Moriarty as a go-between- and sent them a letter that read: 'Greetings new managers Anderson and Donovan. I welcome you to my Opera house and wish to remind you that my salary is due. You will obey my commands and leave box 5 empty for my use during every show, or I will terrify your guests away. Sincerely, O.G.'

He then used his tunnels to travel immediately to John's dressing room, looking at him through a trick mirror. He flipped a switch and turned off the lights of the room, quite terrifying John in the process.

"Wh-what the hell is going on?"

"Do not be afraid. I have come to teach you." Sherlock replied loudly and clearly, once again using ventriloquism to prevent John from finding where he was.

John's stomach dropping when he heard those words. "Who are you?!"

"Vincent, your father, told me to watch over you. I am your Angel of music." the voice replied.

John looked around, still wondering is he was being tricked. "Where are you?"

"I am with you. I have always been with you, but you could never hear me until your resolve and love for music was strong enough."

"Show me your face. Do not hide from me. If you truly mean what you say then are no foe."

"I can show you, but Angels do not look pleasant to the human eye, you may not want to see me. Are you quite sure?"

"If you are my angel then I need not care what you look like."

Sherlock opened the trick mirror, allowing John to see him. He was dripping with fog, and half of his face was covered, but he looked human.

He reached out his hand to John. "Come. I will teach you."


	2. Poor Unhappy Sherlock Holmes

John started reaching out his hand but reached back a bit as though unsure. He was mesmerized by the dazzling mysterious figure reaching out for his hand and lost all thought. He had no words to say. Just the thought of adventure was enough to lure him in with the strange calming figure.

He took the Angel's hand and the two sang endlessly together, going further down into the cellars of the Opera house. John had ridden a horse some of the way, and they had gotten in a boat for the last hour.

When they finally reached the shore, everything there seemed so beautiful. The lights, the musical scores strewn about, the masks, the small theater stages, the instruments lining the walls, it was all so incredible. Sherlock slowly led John out of the boat, tying it up as he taught him how music can often be easier to understand when heard in the darkness, singing a song to him until he fell asleep on his couch. he picked the young singer up and brought him to his spare room, glancing back as he left and shut the door.

* * *

The next day, John woke up to a small musical box with a monkey playing the symbols. It was so strange in that room. Were he to look around, he saw suits and costumes, clothes that would fit him perfectly lining the wall and in the drawers.

John walked around to look at everything he could. It all so breathe taking.

When he was wondering, he heard music playing outside the door and upon closer inspection, It was someone playing the Organ and singing with it. It was a very...elegant voice. Very well controlled and deep. He looked around a corner and saw the figure sitting at the Organ and thought how strange it was for him to meet a strange person in a hidden cellar beneath the opera house. "Hello? I'm sorry I didn't mean to intrude. Your music was quite beautiful. Did you write it yourself? I've never heard anything like it before."

The Angel stopped playing immediately, looking over at the man he had...kidnapped. "I did. You weren't supposed to hear it. Come, let us play something else. Do you care for the violin? I know songs that would go excellently with your voice."

"I always thought the violin was beautiful. My father played a little to me when I was a child. Only when I begged him to." John said as he smiled. As he saw the man reach for his violin he realized that he had a different mask on than he did before. John let the curiosity get the best of him and slowly walked over to the man and reached out his hands to the mans face and just held them there for a brief moment and then slowly started to take off his mask.

The mask had fallen off from his meddling.

Sherlock furiously dropped his violin, reaching his hands up to clench at his face. "DAMN YOU! YOU LITTLE, PRYING-!" He threw John away from him, making him fall back onto the ground. He tugged at a red curtain and unveiled a mirror, looking at John and removing his hands, revealing a terrible, almost burnt looking deformity on the right side of his face. "THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED TO SEE!" He ran back to John, pulling him up and pushing him into a corner. "Feast your eyes upon my wretched face! Handsome, am I not? I am a sort of Don Juan, you know, when someone sees me, they simply cannot resist falling to their knees!" He stared down at John, seeing the fear in his eyes.

He backed away, tripping on himself in the process. He gripped his face to hide his disgusting features, tears in his eyes that wouldn't dare fall.

"I'm so sorry, please forgive me. I would never hurt you, please do not fear me!" He bowed lowly to John. "I'm terrible, I'm sorry. I've lied to you! I am not an Angel. I am just a man! I am not an Opera Ghost, nor a Phantom, nor am I your Angel, I am just poor, unhappy Sherlock Holmes."

John was almost on the verge tears. He gathered enough courage to stand up and walked over to Sherlock.

The man was grovelling at his feet. Sherlock couldn't even bring himself to look at John because he was so ashamed.

"You did not have to lie." John said as he reached down and lifted Sherlock's face shoving he hand lightly so he could see it perfectly. He picked up the mask as handed it to Sherlock, apologetically.

John stood up, reaching his hand out to Sherlock. "Would you mind showing me around? I've never been in a place quite like this."

Sherlock sat there staring at nothing for a bit. No on had ever shown him such kindness after having seen his face before, not even his mother.

"No, we must return. Those two fools who run /my/ theater will be missing you."


End file.
